


Casablanca

by HotaruMuraki



Category: Gorgeous Carat
Genre: Gorgeous Carat - Freeform, M/M, Obsession, Possessiveness, Songfic, hints of shounen ai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotaruMuraki/pseuds/HotaruMuraki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wondered why Azura wrote that letter to Ray? Why he invited an 'old friend' from his childhood to come (back) to Morocco? Was it really just for Ray's help......?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casablanca

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine; they're aaaaallll Higuri-sensei's. TT I just like to play with them. Especially with the 'Blue Devil of Maghreb'! The song is called 'Casablanca' and is sung by David Hasselhoff. (You know... The dude from 'KnightRider' and 'Baywatch'.)
> 
> Notes: I really don't know what plot-bunny bit me there. (And I don't know anything about Africa or Morocco either!) Listening to some old, _untitled_ , self-burned CD can bring very strange results. cackles As you're about to discover... fades ominously into the distance Why? Oh why do I almost always fall for those psycho bastards...? *pops back up* Oh and if you wanna start giving me ideas for other fanfics... Go ahead. Come to think of it... Just go ahead and read it!

.

It's hot here. Hot and arid even when the sun has dipped beyond the horizon. If the walls of this house of mine weren't plastered with lime, it'd be even worse inside. That is an added bonus to such high, massive walls. Apart from making a _successful_ break-in impossible, that is.  
Yes, that and the small gardens up here and down around the atrium. Ostentatious though they may be, I won't do without them. And, pray tell me, why should I?  
The sweet, heady scents of countless blossoms and flowers drift upwards, nicely complementing the whispering of the palm trees and the cypresses whereas the soft murmuring of the small fountain is nearly drowned out by the incessant chirring of the cicadas. "...and a heaven full of stars over my head..." I murmur softly, once more lapsing into comfortable, nearly drowsy silence. Surely there's nowhere in the world where the stars shine more brightly, nowhere where they seem more in reach of the ever-grasping, greedy hands of Man than here in Morocco...  
I slowly recline back onto my chaise, glad to be up here, alone, for once as I trace and re-trace those familiar constellations. I cannot help but remember other times, other occasions where we used to watch the stars, together, in other places. Yes, I _do_ remember. And _why_...? Why did you leave...? Leave _me_?

_In Casablanca the sun is shining_  
 _The desert flower is blooming there_  
 _In Casablanca my love lies waiting_  
 _My heart is burning to meet him there_  


Did you know that the fig-tree we planted that summer way back when still bears fruit? After all these years, the _tree_ still remains true. I had it re-planted, of course, as soon as I returned to here – but that is beside the point. If _you_ had stayed – as you should have! – we could have gone back there together and gotten the tree. And yet... And _yet_.....

_We met one lazy Moroccan summer_

...I seem unable to completely forget the small, scrawny boy I rescued that day way back when. You were starving then, nearly desperate enough to sell yourself for a loaf of bread, weren't you. And to this day, I don't know what made me look into that dingy back-alley that day of all the days I had passed by before.

_We came together like a dream_

I hesitate to call it destiny... For destiny is more often than not only a convenient excuse for weak people to rationalize away what can't be explained by their tiny, feeble minds. And yet... What else could it be? For a small, slender, dark-haired and green-eyed mixed breed to end up with an older, more street-wise brat like myself. Ah, the _fun_ we had! I have not laughed this much before or ever since. You really _were_ the only one who could make me laugh. Or even smile.

_And then one lonely Moroccan winter_

But then that incident happened. I lost sight in my right eye, yes, but—

_The desert took you away from me_

—that was next to nothing compared to the loss of _you_! You went away; no, you _fled_. To Paris, you said, to get to know the country your mother had come from. Hah! How _dare_ you...

_Casablanca I'll wait forever_

I have been patient up to now, following your...'adventures' through the newspapers only.

_Casablanca until I die_

But... It is really high time for you to return. To return...home.

_Casablanca we'll be together_

Don't you want to meet up with me again? To catch up on old times? To...rekindle our friendship?

_Underneath the blue Moroccan sky_

You do not know that when you left, I left soon after that. Not to France, not to follow you, but to America, to stay with relatives I had never even heard of before. I arrived in New York, the city that never sleeps, and was immediately shipped off to Cambridge, where I was "to learn what that mongrel will need to succeed", as my grandfather so rudely but aptly put it. And I did. First at some expensive boarding school and later on when I was older at Harvard itself. Except for some of the holidays and some school-trips, that was where I stayed for the next eight years.  
In hindsight, as is ever perfect, I have to say that I really should have stayed in Morocco. Oh well... The past is passed and but a prologue.

_The nights are colder, the days are longer_

That was when I really came to miss the country I had been born in.

_'cause I'm still living in yesterday_

The wide, endless dunes of the Sahara. The spectacular sunsets we used to watch from on top of that abandoned seraglio. The dawns we viewed from the garret of the old coffee-shop near the harbor. The times we went to the bazaars for food, getting chased by the stall-owners more often than not...

_And I'll be lonely again tomorrow_

It is only at times like these, when the evening grows late that I allow myself to reminiscence like this, to wonder: where would we be today if you had stayed? _What_ would we be? I really wonder...

_I can't believe how you went away_

No, 'Ray', you really should not have left. Left me behind! Unconsciously, I clench my hand, squeezing the glass of wine as if it were a part of you. Maybe your arm. You... You. Left. Me! The _nerve_...!  
CRACK!  
...oh. The glass shattered. I think I might have gripped a little too hard. Chuckling softly to myself, I open my hand and let the crushed pieces of glass fall to the floor. A glittering silvery rain streaked with the scarlet of wine and blood... You really should not have left me.

_Casablanca I'll wait forever_

No-one is allowed to leave without my permission. _No-one._ Not even you.

_Casablanca until I die_

I frown. This so unlike me. What is this emotion I feel whenever I think of you?

_Casablanca we'll be together_

Maybe... Maybe I...miss you...? But... _Why?_

_Underneath the blue Moroccan sky_

My frown deepens. Were it day, my servants would be starting to cower, to slowly inch away from me – but it is night and I am alone. And the mystery of these emotions still remains. How vexing. I truly cannot abide such a thing bothering me. Nor will I abide by it.  
I stand up, slowly walking forward until the stones of the balustrade touch my chest. The glass and ruined chaise forgotten, a thing left for the servants to clean up tomorrow. Looking out over the city, I continue with my strange ponderings.  
This...matter is a proverbial thorn in my side I will not tolerate. A weakness I am loath to allow. It has to be removed. And yet... And yet...  
I pluck a few shards of glass out of my hand, throwing them beyond the weak glow of the table's oil-lamp. A splatter of small, red-silver shooting stars flickering out into the dark... The servants will take care of it tomorrow. Tomorrow, yes, but not tonight.

_The wind is blowing, the streets are empty_

I saunter along the wall, stopping at a conveniently located gap between two pinnacles to recline once more. As I draw one knee nearly up to my chest, the other is left on the floor, steadying me. Still I continue my introspection, continue to watch the clouds chasing across the sky, every so often briefly obscuring the moon. The moon's radiance, however, cannot be held at bay for long. It always comes through at the end. And just as this beautiful full moon refuses to be cowed, to be obscured... _forgotten... **left behind**_...  
I sigh, shaking my head. Ray, Ray, Ray... What am I to do with you?

_The moon is kissing the midnight air_

The wind has stilled now, the moon once more shining down undisturbed. Now the heady scent of the oranges, the lemons and the hydrangea fills the midnight air. Even the last, most zealous merchants have closed their shops by now, the over-all silence broken only by the chirring of the cicadas and other night-active animals going about their business. That and, unfortunately, the lone drunk or two stumbling towards their respective hovels. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary. Business as usual, so to speak. I snort. When one grows complacent, dulled in daily routines, _that_ is the time when disaster is most likely to strike – and manages to catch you completely off-guard.  
Yes, I _do_ know what I'm talking about here. Ray...  
You left. You left me...alone.

_The great Sahara beyond the city_

And it's only at times like these that I can find at least a small measure of peace. Sitting here, high above the city, watching the bright stars above vying for attention with the twinkling, flickering, ephemeral lights of the city down below. Life seems quite transient when seen from such a perspective, doesn't it, Ray?

_Is holding someone a prisoner there_

Then again, your life as well as your fate is what you make of it. That is only one of the harsh truths I had to learn in those years before I returned home. Returned to... _here_. I shift a little as I recline further into the sun-warmed comfort of the stone at my back. It _is_ rare for me fall into such an introspective mood. Hm... I wonder what exactly brought it about...  
Too bad I obliterated the glass earlier. I could really use a drink right now. My throat is parched, dry, for some reason. And it's not the arid coldness of the night's air. Or, to be more precise, not _only_.

_I'll wait forever_

I consider myself a patient man; somebody who plans for a desired outcome. Somebody who knows exactly how to get the chosen results in the best, most efficient and effective way. Hm, do you remember? Ray?

_Until I die_

Way back when... In that dingy alley where we swore a blood-oath to each other... We became _brothers_ where before only similarities in circumstances had bound us together. It _meant_ something to me, a sense of... _belonging_. I thought it meant something to you, too. Don't tell me that decadent whore of a city, that Paris, made you forget!

_We'll be together_

At least _I_ still remember. For I still bear the scar. And not only that scar... Yes, you left me – and for what? But... I do not think you have actually forgotten me. And even if you have...

_Underneath the blue Moroccan sky_

...I will just have to remind you, ne?

.

.

.

Hajimari...


End file.
